


The Russian Skating Gala

by imaddiegrace



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Otabek Altin, Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Anal Sex, Blow Job, Drunk Sex, Fluff, Fluff/Smut, Happy Ending, M/M, Rimming, Scratching, Smut, Teasing, Yoi - Freeform, bottom!yuri, considerate otabae, i know mila is in the tags but i swear there's no love triangle, otabek x yurio, otayuri - Freeform, slight BDSM themes, spitters are quitters, the plot escalates really quickly bc i have no patience, we're taking the sin train all the way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 19:36:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9782105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaddiegrace/pseuds/imaddiegrace
Summary: "Yuri pushes Otabek away from him so that he could get a better look at Otabek’s godly build. His biceps and forearms were laced with muscle. His chest was broad and prominent underneath his widespread shoulders. His stomach was corded with strong fiber and had a trail of dark hair leading into his pants. Yuri wanted to memorize every part of his body, in the fear that he would never get to see it again. Simply staring at this celestial being made him half hard, his pants shifting. Otabek noticed this, looking at Yuri's crotch and smirking."The Russian Skating Gala just got a lot more exciting than Yuri remembered it being previously.This is a gift to animeonwater@tumblr from the yoi-secret-valentines2017 exchange! Happy (belated) Valentines Day!





	

Yuri Plisetsky has once again woken up with a problem. However, this time the problem was a person. A person with the body of a god and the strength of Hercules, lying in his bed. He was perfect in every way, except for the fact that he was Otabek Atlin.

11 HOURS BEFORE 

The 2020 Russian Skating Gala was similar to every other year Yuri has gone. There were two parts: the convention and the formal dinner. 

The convention was an assortment of panels and meet and greets with fans. Yuri absolutely loathed it, but Lilia and Yakov found it to be necessary that Yuri was nice to his fans. 

‘Without your fans, you don't have a career,’ Lilia reminded him. 

Begrudgingly, Yuri had made it through the hugs, girlish screams, and invasive panel questions all day. It was finally time for the formal dinner. It wasn't as if Yuri actually liked the dinner, but it was better than meeting with squealing kids. The dinner was only composed of Russia's top figure skaters. He knew that his talent surpassed most of the skaters there, and that made Yuri more at ease. He enjoyed being at the top of the pyramid, and having everyone look up to him. It made him feel that he was needed.

Yuri had even decided to bring a “date” to the dinner, but they were going as friends. He had taken Otabek to the Gala for two years, after deeming it absolutely necessary to have someone by his side to tolerate the long and incessant rambles of the skater’s speeches. Most skaters liked to publicly thank their fans (via the broadcast) at the dinner, but Yuri had never made a speech before. It wasn't as if Yuri didn't appreciate his fans, he did, he just never had the patience and eloquence to be able to pull off a speech. 

_______________

Yuri wrapped his knuckles on the door to Otabek's hotel room impatiently.

“C’mon princess, I don't have all day,” Yuri huffed. The door swung open, taking Yuri's breath away. Otabek was wearing a tight white blouse that hugged his muscular torso and a gray blazer. His hair was slicked back, exposing more of his shaved undercut. He smelled like aftershave, the good shit, notes of pine and mint wafting off of him. Otabek always looked masculine, but now he looked even more so. He was undoubtedly sexy, and it made Yuri's stomach drop.

Yuri's breath faltered as his eyes skimmed over Otabek. After a moment too long, he regained his composure. 

“Nice groutfit,” he grumbled sarcastically, making fun of his almost entirely grey-outfit. Yuri hoped Otabek didn't notice that his cheeks were flushed, or the way Yuri gaped at him. Otabek smirked, but Yuri couldn't tell why.

“You look great too,” Otabek said smugly as he closed the door behind him. They walked towards the elevator to get to the ballroom of the hotel, where the Gala dinner was to be held. 

Yuri was wearing black dress pants and a white blazer, decorated with a red bow tie. He tried to convince himself that Otabek telling him that he looked good was a thing that friends did. It didn't mean anything at all. Yuri always saw Mila complimenting her female friends on their appearance, so why couldn't Otabek do the same to his male friends? That was totally normal. Platonic. 

“Yuri, are you alright?” Otabek asked him, snapping Yuri out of his craze-driven thoughts. 

“Yeah, I just don't want to be here,” Yuri lied. He was happy to see Otabek. He always liked getting the opportunity to see his best friend.

“I think the Gala is going to be great,” Otabek contradicted. “Remember last year when Georgi threw the microphone at Anya during his speech?” They entered the empty elevator, the doors closing them in.

“That was priceless,” Yuri smiles at the memory, pressing the lobby button on the elevator. “Every year, someone seems to embarrass themselves. Who do you think it will be this year?” 

“Definitely Victor,” Otabek says. “I'm surprised he acted so composed last year.” They exit the elevator, walking towards the ballroom. Their arms brushed every so often as they walked, the smooth fabric of their jackets touching. 

“Maybe,” Yuri replied, as they made their way to their seats.

 

9 HOURS BEFORE

Yuri Plisetsky was drunk off his ass. He knew he was a lightweight, but made the irresponsible decision to drink way too much that night. 

There was a band playing on the stage, light, happy tunes filling the immense ballroom. Everyone was enjoying their dinner, laughter filling their mouths and lungs. The music vibrates through his skull, infecting his mood with happiness. A sudden idea hit him, and he turned towards his date with bright eyes. 

“Bekaaa, let’s go dance!” Yuri exclaims to Otabek, tugging on Otabek’s collar in a flirtatious manner. Otabek’s lips upturn, giving Yuri a grin at the ridiculous idea that would embarrass them both. Otabek must have been hammered too, he would never agree to dance in front of Russia's most prestigious skaters sober. 

Otabek allowed Yuri to drag him to the center of the ballroom. Yuri's hand intertwined with one of Otabek’s, the other finding his broad shoulder. The Kazakh put his hand on Yuri's waist, and led him in an upbeat waltz. 

Their feet were bolts of lightning, quickly (and a little clumsily) waltzing in the center of the room. There wasn't a person in the room that wasn't staring at them dance. Yuri kept stepping on Otabek’s feet, but Otabek didn’t seem to mind. 

Georgi and his new girlfriend (Yuri never cared enough to ask for her name) also went to the center of the room, joining Otabek and Yuri in their dance. Several other pairs that Yuri didn’t recognize also started dancing. 

Otabek swung Yuri into a dip, his blonde hair skimming the tiled floor. Yuri giggled, pulling himself closer to his partner as they danced. 

“Beka, you’re soo sexy,” Yuri blurted, his speech jumbled. He grabbed the collar of Otabek’s shirt with both hands, ceasing the dance and stumbling. Otabek looked at Yuri with the same smug smile from earlier. 

“You think so?” Otabek purred, leaning in close to Yuri’s ear. Yuri loved the sensation, it made him dizzier than he already felt. It was extremely out of character for Otabek to act this way towards him, he had never shown any romantic interest in anyone, really. Yet, Yuri couldn’t care less at this point. He didn’t know what he was doing, but he knew he was doing it right. Otabek’s other hand snaked to Yuri’s hip. 

“You know I do,” Yuri teased, his words slurring. He opened his mouth to speak again, when the couple was interrupted by a loud voice beaming through the microphone. The band had just ceased playing, and most people were in the center by now. 

“Hello,” Mila says confidently, the slit up her black dress rose as she shifted her leg. “I’d like to thank everyone who helped me achieve greatness this season,” she started with a smile. Great. Another sappy motherfucking speech. 

“Let’s leave,” he whispered to Otabek impatiently, his eyes pleading. Otabek’s eyes dart from Mila and Yuri, but finally land on Yuri's flushed face. 

“Okay,” he finally answers. Yuri grins, slipping his hand into Otabek’s jacket pocket and pulling out his hotel room key. 

“We’re going to your room,” Yuri says decisively, keeping one hand on Otabek’s shirt and leading him to the door. 

“Yuri?” Otabek asked, his face a mask of shock and enticement as Yuri led him. The Russian held the room key as if it was a trophy. 

8 HOURS BEFORE

Yuri still had a firm grip on Otabek’s shirt when they reached the door to his hotel room. 

“I'm not going anywhere, you can let go,” Otabek suggests. 

Yuri shoves Otabek’s back against the door, hearing the satisfying sharp exhale as the wind is knocked out of Otabek’s lungs. He slips the keycard into the door.

“I don't know that,” Yuri growls. He puts each hand on either side of Otabek’s face, trapping him within his arms. He leans in his face close to the older man’s, giving him a moment to protest. When he heard no response, Yuri plants his mouth on Otabek’s. 

Otabek was unresponsive at first, but soon melted into Yuri. Otabek’s hands roughly grabbed at Yuri’s waist, lifting him up so his legs circled Otabek’s torso. 

Yuri’s foot spastically searched for the door handle, kicking the door open. They stumble back into the room together, their lips locked in a feverish passion. Yuri pulls his lips a fraction of an inch away.

“Take me to bed,” he orders. Otabek complies, carrying Yuri to the bedroom and throwing him on the comforter.

“As you wish, my fairy,” Otabek straddles himself on top of Yuri, looking down at him with hungry eyes. Yuri had never seen Otabek with this much passion for anything but ice skating.

Yuri’s lips collided once again with Otabek's in a fervent rage. His hands slid over Otabek’s torso, feeling the tight skin beneath his shirt. His skin was feverishly warm, as if it was on fire. Yuri loved the feeling of Otabek's body covering his. He didn't smother or crush him; he hovered the slightest amount so that Yuri was comfortable. 

Otabek’s fingers were magic, his fingers caressed the sharp jut of Yuri's hip bones. Yuri’s legs twitched, wanting Otabek to do more but not knowing how to ask him. 

Yuri's fingers fiddled with the buttons on Otabek’s shirt, but not committing to taking it off. 

“Are you going to unbutton it, or not?” Otabek asked against his lips, challenging him. Yuri growls at Otabek’s snarky comment, his fingers flying through the buttons. He had no problem with the buttons now, ripping at them so fiercely that some of the buttons were ripped from the threads of the shirt. Yuri tore the shirt off of his partner’s back, violently throwing the fabric on the floor. 

Yuri pushes Otabek away from him so that he could get a better look at Otabek’s godly build. His biceps and forearms were laced with muscle. His chest was broad and prominent underneath his widespread shoulders. His stomach was corded with strong fiber and had a trail of dark hair leading into his pants. Yuri wanted to memorize every part of his body, in the fear that he would never get to see it again. Simply staring at this celestial being made him half hard, his pants shifting. Otabek noticed this, looking at Yuri's crotch and smirking. 

Otabek leaned in again to Yuri's ear. “I didn't know you thought so highly of me,” he says, his tongue grazing Yuri's earlobe. 

“Oh, shut up,” Yuri hisses, flipping Otabek over on his back and straddling his hips. Otabek could have stopped him if he wanted to, but he gives his dominance to Yuri. Yuri proceeds to do what he knows best, torturing. His lips meet with Otabek’s neck and feed him with soft kisses in prelude to the main show. Otabek makes a low noise deep in his throat as Yuri continues to suck on his neck. Yuri's hands wrap around to Otabek’s back and slowly scratch his fingernails down his skin. 

Otabek gasps, clearly not expecting Yuri to scratch him. Yuri digs his nails into the other with the full intention of leaving a mark. He wanted to mark Otabek as his own. Otabek’s hands swiftly undid the buttons on Yuri’s own shirt, flinging off his blazer and blouse at once. The older man pressed his thumbs into Yuri's bare collarbone, rubbing circles of tension.

Yuri's lips continue to work their way down Otabek’s body. He pauses at the trail of hair on Otabek’s stomach. Yuri wets his tongue, and licks up the pathway of body hair, earning a loud moan from Otabek. Otabek’s muscles twitch under Yuri’s tongue.

Otabek grabs Yuri’s head and pulls him into another kiss, sliding his tongue into Yuri’s mouth. Otabek’s pace was slower now, more gentle, more cautious. Yuri liked the way Otabek’s nimble fingers cupped Yuri’s face, and the way his tongue filled Yuri’s mouth. His kisses weren’t like a girl’s kiss. When girls kissed their tongues were flighty and darting, but Otabek’s tongue was slow and intoxicating. His tongue filled the empty space in his mouth, tickling his soft palate. The kiss took away his aggression, leaving him with tenderness instead. It felt odd to Yuri to be so compassionate with another person.

Otabek pulls away from the kiss, their mouths still connected by a strand of saliva that quickly breaks off. The liquid courage flowing through in Yuri's blood screamed for less tenderness. He wanted the older man to be rough with him. He would have to initiate it. 

Yuri’s hand glided into the back of Otabek’s slacks. He cupped his hand around Otabek’s tight, firm ass. Otabek moaned, his back arching in pleasure. Yuri smiles, knowing that he's enticed his partner. Yuri could feel the pressure of Otabek’s arousal against his stomach, pressing against him. 

Just as Yuri had surprised Otabek, the Kazakh wanted to do the same for his fairy. Otabek grabbed Yuri by the shoulder and flipped him on his back. He straddled Yuri’s hips, reclaiming his dominance. Otabek's lips encased Yuri's nipple. His lips felt hot against one of Yuri's most sensitive areas. Otabek nibbled on the spot, and Yuri had to firmly press his lips shut to avoid embarrassing little noises to escape his lips. 

Otabek’s lips found Yuri's again. It was now a welcome gesture. Yuri deepened the kiss, one hand still cupping Otabek’s smooth globe, the other running through the tiny hairs of Otabek's undercut. Otabek's hand was magical, trickling down to the bulge on Yuri's pants. He palmed Yuri's erection through the material of Yuri's slacks. Yuri's knees bent and squirmed in pleasure, his length throbbing. He didn't know how much longer he could keep his pants on. 

Otabek grinded his hips into Yuri's several times. Yuri's mouth parted in pleasure, he couldn't take the pressure anymore. He unbuckled and slid off his pants and boxers in choppy motions, having to navigate the pants under Otabek’s lap. He flung the clothing to the side.

Otabek’s eyes traveled over Yuri's body in a tantalizing way as Yuri huffed through puffy, bruised lips. Otabek followed and removed his own pants fluidly, chucking them off the bed. 

They simply stare at each other, taking in each other’s bodies. If it was possible, Yuri's cheeks flushed an even darker crimson at the sight of his partner's length. Otabek was massive, not only long, but rather thick too. Yuri had expected the Kazakh to be carrying a large package, but he didn't expect massive. They were both breathing heavily, the lingering smell of champagne from Yuri’s breath infecting the room.

“You're so sexy,” Otabek says, meeting his eyes with astounding confidence. It sounded so smooth coming from Otabek, so flattering. Yuri knew that if he tried to say something like that it would come out weird. 

“You're a fucking god,” Yuri growled. Otabek chuckled. 

“Is that your attempt at a compliment?” Otabek had lowered his face to Yuri’s hairline, breathing into his hair. It felt wonderful. Otabek’s lips tickled themselves down Yuri's exposed body. Yuri was squirming again, he hated that he did it but couldn't help it. The older man’s head lowered until it was between Yuri’s legs. Otabek's lips left tiny imprints on Yuri’s thighs. He kissed his hips and his stomach, leaving Yuri's cock neglected. 

Yuri cried out, angry and hypnotized by Otabek's teasing. He wanted Otabek to stop teasing him, but found it hard to voice his thoughts. Otabek stops suddenly, his cola-brown eyes landing on Yuri's green. 

“Yuri, do you want to-” Otabek started. 

“Yes,” Yuri cuts off. Otabek's eyes widen slightly at Yuri's excitement. 

“Will you accept me?” Otabek asked him, his mouth in an infuriatingly adorable half-smile. 

“Yes, Beka,” Yuri tried out the nickname, feeling satisfied when Otabek's eyes gleamed.

Otabek flipped Yuri on his stomach roughly, his strength obviously apparent, and connected his lips to Yuri's neck. His mouth caressed every plate of Yuri's spine until his mouth reached Yuri's tailbone. Otabek spread Yuri open, his tongue grazing Yuri's rim. Yuri gripped the bedsheets, finding the feeling exotic. Otabek’s tongue swirled, causing high-pitched groans to manifest themselves in Yuri's throat. The Kazak’s mouth fully pressed against Yuri’s entrance, using the pressure to slice his tongue inside of Yuri. It was an intoxicating feeling, but it wasn’t enough. Yuri needed more. Otabek’s tongue goes at a steady pace, loosening Yuri. 

Otabek got up and left suddenly, leaving Yuri cold. He rummaged through his suitcase and pulled out a tube with a blue cap. He got back on the bed, his body encasing Yuri's. 

“How many fingers do you usually take?” Otabek asked him. 

“I don't know, I've never done it with a guy,” Yuri says plainly. 

“Okay, I’ll start slow then, okay?” Otabek liberally applied lube to his finger and very slowly slid one into Yuri. He waited for Yuri to feel adjusted to the feeling, and let his finger go deeper. He gently pumped one finger several times until he felt Yuri was ready. Yuri felt Otabek’s lips on his spine once more as another finger slid inside him. Otabek used his other hand to slowly massage Yuri’s sack, enhancing the experience tenfold. Otabek was just too fucking good for his own sake.

It was a strange feeling for Yuri, Otabek's fingers weren't quite reaching his desired spot, but they were so close. So close that Yuri called out Otabek's name, loudly. 

“Otabek! Otabek I'm ready,” Yuri breathes. Yuri turns around onto his stomach so that he could see Otabek’s face.

“Please, Beka. Do me,” Yuri pleaded. Otabek smiled at Yuri, giving him a quick peck on the lips. 

“I didn't expect you to be so eager,” he said huskily. His voice was honey on a bass drum, smooth and low. Yuri wrapped his hands around the other’s neck, his fingers hooking together in one of the ridges of Otabek’s spine.

Otabek applied a coating of the lubricant on his length, and teased the outside of Yuri's entrance with his cock. 

“Please,” Yuri pleaded again, his thighs tingling. 

Otabek, finally, slid a little bit of him inside Yuri. He started with only a little, allowing Yuri to adjust. He was so considerate to Yuri. 

Otabek thrusted, pushing more of himself into Yuri. Yuri gasps, the feeling of Otabek's cock inside of him feeling so new. 

“God, Yuri, you're so fucking tight,” Otabek moans. He pushed in farther and thrusted several more times. 

“Fuck. Holy fuck,” Yuri breathed. Otabek had finally found the spot that took Yuri's breath away. The feeling was so wonderful and euphoric that it was hard to contain. It was a feeling that was better than any medal, any podium. 

Yuri adorned Otabek’s neck with more scratches as Otabek thrusted. The blonde found himself moving his own body in rhythm with the other’s. They were making a song with no melody, one that only they understood. 

“Yuri, I'm close,” Otabek says, gripping Yuri's hips tightly. 

Yuri felt Otabek fill him, warmth spreading through his torso. Otabek exits him very slowly, breathing hard. Their chests were heaving in unison. 

Otabek’s tongue teased the head of Yuri's cock, licking strokes around the tip before encasing his lips around Yuri's length. Yuri had already been close, it didn’t take many bobs ot Otabek’s head for Yuri to come. Otabek swallowed Yuri's salt, and collapsed on the mattress next to him. Yuri felt pride was over him, he didn’t expect Otabek to be the kind of guy to swallow

Yuri curled himself into Otabek, filling the empty space in his torso. Otabek wraps his arms around the lithe blonde. Yuri quickly falls asleep. 

_______________

Sunlight streams through the uncurtained window, basking the room in its soft glow. Yuri’s eyelashes fluttered, waking up to the orange light. His head and ass throbbed with intensity.

Yuri Plisetsky had once again woken up with a problem. However, this time the problem was a person. A person with the body of a god and the strength of Hercules, lying in his bed. He was perfect in every way, except for the fact that he was Otabek Atlin.

Yuri pushed himself away from Otabek’s cuddly embrace, scrambling over to the other side of the bed. Otabek’s eyes were open, he looked like he had been awake for some time. 

“Were you watching me sleep?” Yuri asked, his voice rough with sleep. Otabek looked shyly away, his hand running through his hair. 

Yuri remembered the way his own hands ran through Otabek’s hair last night, the soft sensation it left in his fingertips. He shook the memories off.

Otabek was his friend, nothing more. This was a mistake. A fluke. A total misunderstanding. That couldn't have happened. Why was Yuri feeling so abysmal about his fantasies finally coming true?

Had he thought about being fucked by Otabek before? Maybe. Yes. But he never expected it to happen. 

It was all too much for Yuri to handle. He scrambled to get off of the bed and put on his pants. He wanted to leave the room, he couldn’t face Otabek.

“Yuri, stop. We need to talk,” Otabek commanded, his coy expression gone. He got out of the bed, still gloriously in the nude. Yuri stood up as well, not wanting to confront Otabek. He didn't want to talk about what happened. He didn't want to talk about how their friendship was ruined. Yuri wanted to re-do the night sober. 

“I don't want to talk to you,” Yuri hissed. He knew he was being childish, but he didn't care. Otabek walked over to the other side of the bed where Yuri was.

“We were drunk, okay? It didn't matter. Nothing mattered,” Yuri continued. He found himself distracted by Otabek's body in all its perfection. It was too tempting. There were tiny bruises all over Otabek's neck and stomach. Red scratch marks adorned the celestial being’s back. Yuri had marked him, alright. He wondered if Otabek would try to cover the marks or not. 

“Put on some fucking clothes, will you?” Yuri was uncontrollably blushing now. Otabek walked over to where Yuri threw his clothes, giving a sharp exhale. 

“I wasn't drunk,” Otabek says plainly, sliding his boxers up his legs. He didn't bother with pants. 

Yuri's head spun. Otabek had fucked him sober? Why would he do that? Yuri stared at Otabek incredulously, trying to comprehend what he said. 

“Why?” Yuri asked simply. Otabek met Yuri's eyes, his expression softening. 

“Because I want to be with you,” he answers. “And you wanted to be with me, too.” 

Otabek wanted to be with him? Yuri's lips part, stuttering on his next words. 

“I-I still think… We should just forget about this,” Yuri said decisively. 

“The first time you’re with a guy isn't a forgettable moment,” Otabek counters, with a motivation unbeknownst to Yuri. 

“First time ever,” Yuri corrected quietly. 

Otabek’s eyes sprang wide. “You were a virgin?” Otabek asked. It was his turn to be shocked. “You said the first time with a guy, so I had assumed you had already hooked up with a girl…” Otabek trailed off, and immediately followed with some colorful phrases in Kazakh that were not directed at Yuri. 

“That's why I didn't tell you. I knew you would freak out,” Yuri grumbled. 

“No, Yuri. You should have told me. Your first time should be special, not… This.” Otabek gestured with his hands to nothing in particular. 

‘It wasn't special?’ Yuri wanted to ask. He didn't, however. He was the one who said they should forget. He said that they should move on. It would be easier to be friends instead. 

Would it be easier to be friends? Would it be easier to constantly pine for someone and have to expect nothing in return? Would it be easier to not remember the body he so dearly ached for?   
“I'm so sorry. If I had known, I wouldn't have… Fucked you.” They were dancing around the word, but Otabek finally said it bluntly. 

“I'm not angry at you. I wanted to do this,” Yuri explains. He was shocked at first of what they did, but he could never be angry at Otabek for that. It was what Yuri wanted. The only thing champagne did was give him the courage to follow through.

“You have every right to be angry at me,” Otabek said self-deprecatingly. “I'm sure you probably imagined your first time to be different,” 

“No, actually, I wanted you to be my first,” Yuri says bluntly. “I just didn't want it to be so… Sudden.” They went from being friends to being something completely different in one night.

Otabek moved closer to Yuri and used one hand to gently cup Yuri's cheek. 

“Beka, what does this mean for us?” Yuri asked, feeling his stomach twist and turn.

“I want to be with you, Yura,” Yuri's name rolls off of Otabek's tongue like silk, the syllables smooth and laced with compassion. 

Yuri, for the first time that morning, felt himself smile. It might be hard to be in a relationship with Otabek, considering how much he is putting at stake. But Yuri was willing to try. More than try. This is what he wanted.

“I’d like that,” Yuri says softly, tilting his head upwards so that it was parallel to Otabek’s. Their noses met in an Eskimo kiss, blissful and innocent. Yuri leaned farther into his boyfriend, pressing his lips against Otabek's.

It was a slow kiss, one with promise. It wasn't a leading into sex kiss, or a ‘friend’ kiss. It was more and less and not enough. Yuri hoped that it would never be enough, that he would always crave to be around Otabek. Yuri's hands wrapped around Otabek’s waist, pushing himself closer to Otabek. 

“But, next time we sleep together-” Yuri pulled his head away from Otabek's “-don't be so fucking gentle,” Yuri growled. He was confident in his statement, because he knew for certain that there would, in fact, be a ‘next’ time.


End file.
